


The Cup

by trixiethepixie1234



Category: A Clockwork Orange - All Media Types, A Clockwork Orange - Anthony Burgess
Genre: F/M, Graphic Violence, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 16:51:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8541058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixiethepixie1234/pseuds/trixiethepixie1234
Summary: Lilith looses everything, one warm summer’s evening. Now, she wants vengeance against the boy who caused her so much pain. But, at the end of the day, does she have the sharries to go through with it?





	

If only she had remembered the cup.  
So many little things could have prevented this. If Alex had picked another house – any other house in a large block of identical units. If Lilith had gone out that night with her family, like she was supposed to. And, of course, if she had remembered the cup.  
The house was almost silent, although she didn’t really mind that. A Saturday night in didn’t seem so lonesome when you enjoyed the quiet all around you. Although, of course Lilith knew – as most people with her sensitive disposition to sound would – that the house wasn’t silent. There was the gentle hum of the neighbour’s washing machine. There was the creak of the floorboards as she stepped on each one, each emitting a slightly different note as if the floor were a giant piano and she was the grand maestro playing. The softest breathing of her baby brother in the room next to hers. There was the thrum of the cicadas on a hot summer night, screaming from the trees as in warning to remember, remember, remember.  
Lilith, not speaking the ancient language of the cicadas, or that of the wind that blew uneasily between the rich pines of her yard, took no heed to these warnings, and stepped downstairs, leaving her small white teacup on her bedside table.  
Once downstairs, she lit the stove and filled the kettle. If only she’d brought down the cup in the first trip! But no, things were not fated to end as such.  
So, so, she marched up the stairs again only to see a boy, perhaps only a year or two younger than herself, in black tights with some sort of mould fitting on the crotch underneath the tights, which, in the bright lights of Lilith’s bedroom, showed the shape of a spider. He wore a waistcoat without lapels, but massive padded shoulders and an off-white cravat, looking something like whipped cream. His hair wasn’t too long, and was a dark chestnut brown colour, with two bright blue eyes peeping out from underneath his bowler hat, one of which was surrounding in long fake black lashes. His boots were long and black and heavy-looking.  
Lilith went to let out a scream, but before she could he was upon her, his sweaty hand around her mouth, his razor at her throat.  
“There, there, my dobby Devotchka,” he crooned in her ear, as she whimpered. “Let’s have none of that shoom, eh?”  
Just like the house, however, Lilith still made noises even in complete silence. Her heart hammered so loudly she was sure the neighbours could hear. She could hear the hot blood swirling around in her ears, her short sharp breathing through her nose.  
In some sort of relief to the hot, clouded air that surrounded the boy, the open window blew back a cool breeze into Lilith’s face. Knowing she’d closed it, Lilith deduced that this must have been the boy’s point of entrance, She closed her eyes and imagined herself anywhere, anywhere but here. Her cup still sat at her bedside table.  
“We were just going to crast some horrorshow pretty polly from you bugatty folks, but now, I think we’ll have some fun with a bit of the ol’ in-out-in-out, eh?” he sneered into her face. He turned to call, over his shoulder, “Alright, my droogs, come up the okno, there’s no one but a molodoy ptitsa-”  
Seizing her chance, Lilith reached for the cup on the bedside table, and smashed it over the boy’s head, stumbling backwards as she did so to avoid his blade. He cried out in confusion, but the porcelain had only stunned him momentarily. His eyes took on a strange glint as he moved forwards towards Lilith.  
“My dear, your Appypolly loggies, please, or else we might have to have a little drat…” He growled, coming forwards, his movements almost catlike.  
When he reached her, Lilith brought up her knee to his groin, in one swift motion. She could tell that the mould deadened the impact a bit, and she knew that her knee would boast a large bruise the next day, but the boy definitely felt it. His head lowered as he stooped over, cursing under his breath. As he did so, Lilith brought her elbow to his temple as hard as she could. He fell over, the blade falling from his hands.  
She didn’t think – she just ran. Down the stairs and out the door, her hands fumbling at the deadbolt until, at last, she was outside. All the way, she could swear that she heard the boy laughing, laughing after her.  
By the time she was outside, Lilith’s breathing was shallow and ragged, her heart hammering in her chest so hard that it hurt. She was afraid that she was going to pass out.  
She made it to the end of the street before she smelt it. Smoke, grey and black, writhing forward in toxic ribbons to choke her by the throat. “They’ve set the house of fire,” she whispered hollowly. The realisation made her double over in pain and she was sick into the damp, dank gutter.  
Her head spun as she stood up straight. If only she’d remembered the cup, if only she’d remembered the cup-  
If only she’d remembered Ace.  
Her baby brother had been asleep in the room next door.  
If only she’d remembered the baby.  
Screaming, she nearly fell over her feet in an attempt to make it back to the house. She tried to open the heavy oak door, but the metal burnt her hands, leaving jagged and ugly red marks snaking up her fingers to her palm. She kicked at the door, once, twice, and the fire must’ve weakened it enough for her to break it down, because it fell inwards with a thud. Smoke billowed outwards, making Lilith’s eyes water painfully. She coughed as she tried to make her way inside, but her eyesight grew blurred, and she became dizzier and dizzier until the grey smoke faded to black, and she fell to the floor.


End file.
